


Struggling Beasts

by QuillMind



Series: Two Black Monsters [2]
Category: Berserk
Genre: Angst, Bloodlust, Broken, Choking, Codependency, Comfort Sex, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fucked Up, Loss of Control, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Sex, Psychological Trauma, Reader-Insert, Repressed Memories, Smut, Survival, Tragedy, Trauma, painful memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Guts survived the Eclipse.  You survived the God Hand.  But can you survive each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struggling Beasts

Though it was a decent enough place with a good supply of clean water, livestock, bakeries, blacksmiths, markets and alehouses, neither you nor Guts had any intention of staying in the town for long.  You would only get what you needed, then leave immediately.  It was never a good idea for you to linger where other people were.  Sometimes you thought being in well-populated areas was when you felt the most scared. 

Covered in your black cloaks, the two of you moved swiftly through the streets, ignoring the looks you attracted from the townspeople.  As much as you would have preferred to be inconspicuous, the massive weapons you carried on your backs made this impossible.  While Guts' head remained exposed, revealing the messy grid of scars on his face, you took a more prudent approach of keeping your hood on.  You had learned a long time ago that a young woman was smarter to keep her appearance hidden when traveling. 

To save time, you split up to gather supplies before you would continue on your journey.  Guts' metal prosthetic hand, hard and heavy and dangerous, was gentle as it gave a small pat on your shoulder.  Just last night, that same hand had gouged the eyeballs of a putrid ghoul and fired a volley of arrows into screeching pygmy devils.  You gave him a quick nod and went off. 

You stocked up on food that would keep: hard cheeses, dried fruit, salted jerky and dark bread, but you also bought some fresh apples, pears, eggs and sausage--those you would eat later today.  Buttermilk was purchased for its protein and fat content. 

The last item on your list led you to an alehouse.  The two of you did not really consume alcohol, as it did you no favours to be drunk and dull, especially when the sun would go down.  Instead, you kept some on hand for cooking. 

Your black cloak fluttered around you as you snaked through the chairs and tables.  Even though it was late morning, there were already a number of men present, noisily downing their mugs and slurring amongst themselves. 

"A bottle of your strongest," you said quietly to the owner, punctuating your sentence with the metallic _chink_ of coins being placed on the counter.  The man gave you a curious look, but his priorities were set, and he took your money and gave you what you asked for. 

You put the bottle in your bag and were about to leave when an unpleasant sound came from behind you. 

"Hey, there, stranger, where ya headed?" 

You turned around but kept your gaze low.  Four men were circled around you, reeking of beer and onions and leering hungrily. 

You felt disgusted.  You tried to cut through them, but they held out their arms. 

"What's your hurry?  Stay with us for a bit, have a drink?"  The one who spoke gave a slimy grin that showed his lack of several teeth, and the ones that he did have were yellow. 

"Not interested," you clipped, pushing them away.  It was not hard to do, given their level of intoxication, plus the fact that they had not expected a woman to respond so forcefully to them. 

"Hey!  You wait a minute--" A grungy hand lurched forward and pulled your hood down, revealing your face. 

"Whoa-ho!  You're nicer looking than expected!" the lanky one of the bunch exclaimed. 

"Why don't ya put down that load on your back, it must be heavy for ya."

The stocky one with a patchy beard reached out for you.  "Let's see what else you're hiding underneath that cloak--"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence on account of your dagger skewering both of his hands and pinning them to the wall.  It took him a few seconds before his mind could process what had happened and start screaming in agony, which then spurred on his friends to run at you, but a sweep of their legs and a punch to the chin was all you required to send them to the floor unconscious. 

The remaining patrons of the alehouse stared in disbelief and fear as you left.  To some degree, they felt a bit of excitement as well, to see a woman do what many men could not. 

Guts was already waiting for you near the town's entrance.  "Finished?" he asked. 

You nodded with a little smile.  He was the one person who could coax them out of you. 

He narrowed his eye when he noticed your hood was down.  "Did you run into any trouble?"

"Nothing major, don't worry about it," you said, pulling the black shroud back over your head. 

Truthfully, Guts didn't like that you had to hide yourself like this, even if he knew it was the sensible thing to do.  He would have preferred to always be able to see your face.  But he stayed silent. 

Only half an hour after you'd left town did you get attacked again.  Even partially obscured by the trees and bushes, you knew it was the men from the tavern plus several of their friends.  They announced themselves with snickers and chuckles rich with a premature sense of victory, looking and sounding especially lascivious towards you.  Cheap old swords and spears pointed at you and Guts, their rust and nicks clearly visible.

"So you weren't kidding," one of the men said to his friend, "this one's a looker!" 

"I've seen better," another snorted, scratching at his beard. 

"Yeah, but you ain't fucked better," a third retorted, getting him a laugh from the group. 

The one whose hand you stabbed stepped closer.  "You really messed up my hand here, girl!  Maybe you should come with us and apologize, huh?" 

"But first, drop all your gear and weapons!  You too, tall guy.  Just stay put while your friend spends some time with us, all right?"

You turned your head to the one with the injured hand, who appeared to be the de facto ringleader.  "You should all return to town." 

"What?" 

"Return to town right now.  It'll be dark soon.  You don't want to be near us when the sun sets."  There was an infinitesimal bit of pensiveness in your voice that only Guts picked up on. 

"The Hell you acting so high and mighty for?" asked one of the men who you'd socked in the face.  "There's only two of you and eight of us!  Do the math!  I mean, hey, that's more holes than you got, but we can work something out--"

His grubby hand lunged forward to pull at your arm.  You were glad Guts smashed his fist into the man's face, cutting him off and sending him flying into a tree; if he hadn't, you might have ripped his intestines out. 

The two of your were expressionless as you made quick work of the stupid drunks, rendering them babbling and bewildered at suddenly being pitted against two black monsters, a walking wall of metal with hits that rivaled a cannon strike, and an agile sylph that possessed the precision of a surgeon and the brutality of a lion.  Not even a minute had passed by the time all eight of them were laid out on the ground, unconscious or wishing they were, each having at least a few parts of them broken and cut open. 

You stared at them, any hint of their menace evaporated. 

Guts' hand gripped your shoulder.  "Come on, we should go," he said irritably.

You only nodded, and the two of you returned to your path at a slightly faster pace.  The ground crunched beneath your feet from the gravel and random teeth that had just been knocked out of their mouths. 

****

The quickly disappearing daylight had meant there was only so much time the two of you had to be somewhat safe before your brands would call upon the usual visitors.  It had been all the more reason for Guts to hurry you away.  As soon as you put a reasonable enough distance between yourself and the town, he had smashed his mouth over yours and began stripping your clothes off. 

You had been surprised and worried at first--Guts was an intense person to begin with, but you detected a sense of urgency and frustration from him that seemed to stem from fear.  A few pieces of words managed to escape your lips in an attempt to slow him down, but he did not relent, and as your body responded quickly and eagerly to his kisses and touches, your protests faded. 

He held your naked form up easily in his arms as he undressed himself just enough to free that aching part of him, and jammed into you unceremoniously.  The impact bumped your head against the tree you had backed up against, and while you were not that upset on account of still riding the shockwave of being maddeningly filled and stretched, he brought his hand--his flesh-and-blood one--to cushion the back of your skull, fingers stroking hair.  But he did not stop, even a little, grunting and panting against your neck as he pounded into your center. 

You had hardly been in serious danger back there with those men surrounding you.  You were a former member of the Band of the Hawk, an accomplished fighter on your own, even without him by your side.  But the threats that they had made, and the sight of that one almost touching you, combined with the deduction that they were the reason you had shown up with your hood pulled down, sparked an aggressive, possessive urge in him to claim you.

And you accepted those urges happily, moaning, further inflamed by the myriad of colours in the sky that signaled approaching danger.  All of that calmness, that stony, expressionless part of you that the drunk had seen was nowhere to be seen here, replaced instead by a lustful Maenad, body and mind willingly surrendered to this scarred man who was the only one who ever heard or saw you this way. 

Though the first time had been under entirely different circumstances--

_\--Blackness sick corpses heavy ghouls demons hand grabbing biting licking ripped blood skin invading--_

You cringed as if slapped and turned your head from the memory that threatened to surface.  Guts must have noticed your distraction, as he slowed his thrusts just enough to look at you.  He had done this with you many, many times, enough to know when your chewed lip and scrunched eyes were not happening out of pleasure. 

_Disgusting warm hurts hurts stay out hurts why five gods hurts don't look don't look I'm sorry want to die feels good filthy--_

You channeled all the emotions that were storming through you into rage--the one that was the most comfortable and familiar to the both of you--and put a halt to the memories by grabbing Guts' face and kissing him roughly.  "Mmmmm," you hummed into his mouth.  When you pulled back, you kept your face mere inches away from his and glowered at him. 

_"Fuck me,"_ you demanded, at the same tensing as hard as you could to clench your walls around his cock. 

He did as you asked, resuming his thrusts and rapidly hurling the both of you towards exaltation.  As rough and savage as this could be between you two, this was not the same as what had happened during the Eclipse.  Here, you were in control and safe, away from prying eyes, being touched by no one else but each other, consenting and sharing in pleasure without shame. 

Your brands pulsed and bled.  You both came while calling each other's names, and gave yourselves a minute to stay tightly embraced before you hurriedly dressed, grabbed your weapon, and stood at the ready to face the monsters that were heading your way. 

****

At first light, once the fighting was over, Guts had insisted that you sleep first.  You protested only once, then gave up and took him up on his offer, curling up on the grass and wrapping yourself in your cloak.  He liked these moments--in a very different way, he liked them just as much as when he was losing himself inside of you.  With your chest rising and falling slowly and your eyes closed peacefully, you looked far away from the horrors of the world, and he wished to preserve that as long as possible, like a perfect scene captured in a painting. 

But it could never be.  The brands on your bodies meant you were the most appetizing bait for unearthly beings.  The moment you awoke again, the nightmare that was your lives would resume.  Neither of you could ever live in a town like that one you had been in the day before, owning a house, making friends with neighbours, having children and raising a family. 

Guts' eye darkened.  He had come inside of you so many times in the past, yet you had not become pregnant once.  Maybe your or he were sterile, either by nature or somehow by the events of the Eclipse.  Either way, he was relieved that your womb remained empty; a child would be only a burden and neither of you were suited to be parents. 

No, that was not true.  He would have been overjoyed to learn that you were carrying his child.  He would shower you with kisses the moment you told him the news, and tended to your every need as your belly grew with new life.  The others in the Band of the Hawk might laugh and poke fun at their group gaining the youngest mercenary the world had ever known, but he wouldn't have cared, too euphoric from the wonders, delights and fears of fatherhood. 

Black claws tore that sugary fantasy apart.  Guts felt as though the light were dimming around him, despite the early noon sun shining above.  A heavy, toxic weight began to sink into him, drawing out memories and twisting them into ugly knots.  An inky shadow slowly gained form and definition, slinking up from the forbidden depths of Guts' mind where raw, base thoughts and impulses lay before being filtered into acceptable, ordered perceptions. 

It wasn't enough that he had lost his arm, an eye and his comrades, but to have you around was a constant reminder of his failure.  How impotent all his strength had been against the God Hand as he was pinned down like a wriggling insect, forced to watch as you were tossed around by the mob of wretched creatures.  You were screaming, tears in your eyes from just witnessing Judeau sacrifice himself to save you, an effort that went in vain as you were made into the demons' plaything, scratched, bitten, fondled and licked as they pleased.  You had looked so weak to him, held up by hands, talons and tentacles alike, nothing like the powerful warrior you were supposed to be.  And eventually your cries had taken on a different tone as that fifth angel, the newest one, proceeded to display just how disgusting you were, actually finding some pleasure in this Hell, even as you both bled. 

A growling sound rang in Guts' ears, deep and great like the rumble of an earthquake.  A gargantuan jaw lined with an impossible number of teeth--all canines, lurked behind him, licking the fangs with a tapered, almost reptilian tongue. 

_She showed herself to you that day as the pathetic bitch she really is.  A whore of demons and ghouls that'll take anything into her.  She didn't even help you.  She let herself be fucked by the one who killed your family.  She didn't want you to watch because she felt so good, better than you ever made her feel.  Maybe she thinks of him even now when you fuck her?_

Guts grit his teeth and held his head in his hands, trying to block out the voice.  This was not him. 

_Every minute you spend with her is a minute you compromise yourself.  See what good it did you to care about anything or anyone.  Rid yourself of her and you'll be even stronger than before, strong enough to take the five down.  What's another life taken by your hand?  How many have you killed already?  How many more will you kill?_

"Shut up..." 

_You'll never stop killing, because you like it.  Just as she liked getting taken by your best friend.  It would feel really good to kill her while fucking her, hurt her, making her bleed... You already know she would enjoy it._

"Stop..."

The mouth connected to the shadow and slinked around Guts, visible to no one but himself. 

_She deserves it.  Anything you do to her, she deserves.  For reminding you of days you can never get back, of days you will never have, for being a used-up scrap of filth that Griffith discarded.  Just give in.  Get rid of her.  Let me take over.  Just give in.  Just kill her and give in give in kill her kill her give in kill killer kill her kill kill kill--_

****

It had all happened so suddenly that you were already severely weakened by the time your mind registered what was going on.  Guts was above you, showing a face of crazed bloodlust and hatred as he was choking you. 

You knew Guts had the strength to crush your windpipe in one hard squeeze if he wanted to.  He was going slow because he wanted you to suffer.  But that face was only shown to the monsters you hunted.  It was never directed at you. 

This was not him. 

You responded in kind, in the language the current 'him' would understand. 

You had an ugliness deep inside of you as well, one that endlessly fed on and emotions that you fought to suppress.  Grief over the friends you lost and could not protect.  Shame in giving in to fear when you were surrounded by monsters, and being completely exposed in front of them all.  Rage and hatred over your helplessness, the evil that was done to you, the betrayal Griffith had wrought upon the Band of the Hawk.  Resentment towards yourself for still being alive when thousands of others were slaughtered.  Regret over the possible things you could have done, should have done, to be Griffith's support, to protect him and prevent the Eclipse from ever happening. 

These emotions extended to Guts as well, but they were buried deeper, ugly abominations coated in bile.  You hated him for leaving the Band of the Hawk, for leaving Griffith, for leaving you.  It was because of him that Griffith became lost, resulting in being broken apart until he was a frail husk that then called forth the God Hand.  You could not wear enough layers of clothing to cover up the shame you had felt when he watched you be hurt, even though you'd begged him not to.  He had participated in the violation just as much.  He could not save you.  He was worthless.  _You_ were worthless.  Your mind detested what had happened to you, but your treasonous body had felt otherwise, and Guts had seen that.  Now you were chained to this man, the one responsible for setting the events in motion that led to your suffering, for the rest of your life.  It was _his_ fault that you had become this ugly, cold, savage killer.  It was unforgiveable.   It _ate_ at you. 

The crushing on your throat woke the beast up, and it ascended to the forefront of your mind, bringing all of your hidden feelings with it. 

With all the strength you had, you reached up to close your own hands around Guts' throat.  They were too small to encircle his tree trunk-like neck completely, but they were enough for you to get a proper grasp and start squeezing.  He had a head start on you, so you exerted greater pressure right away to catch up.  He grunted and gagged, but still did not let up.  The muscles of your arms bunched as you squeezed harder.  Pained snarls came from the both of you. 

It was no good; try as you might, you couldn't beat his brute strength.  Your vision was starting to fail.  Your mouth wrenched out some alchemical combination of a plea, a reassurance, a curse.  

_"Guts--!"_

The vitriolic glare broke away to become a look of terrified shock.  Guts' grip on you loosened as he became himself again. 

With the force around your neck softening, you yelled, despite the burning pain it caused, and sent your fist into the side of his face like a hammer blow.  It easily knocked Guts down and you used the momentum to roll over and on top to straddle him, leaning all of your weight onto your hands that pressed on his neck.  No longer vulnerable, you craved control.  Through damaged pipes you gained strength with each wheezing breath, and that part of you inside that would gain the sweetest satisfaction from seeing this man beneath you die salivated--

_No._

Reins snapped over your internal shadow's maw, dragging it back down into your depths, away but never erased.  In your mind, you could hear its hungry howls and gnashing teeth. 

You went in a disordered pattern between coughing and panting, quaking from your near-death and near-kill experience.  There was a pinching pain behind your nose.  You were about to drag your hands back, but Guts stopped them and gently moved them back to where they were.  Self-hatred and surrender emanated from him. 

Neither of you said anything.  Even if neither of you hadn't just nearly had your necks crushed, what words were there to say?  What would you have wanted to hear?  'Sorry' didn't even come close, even if you repeated it a billion times.  On top of everything else, in time would you eventually lose your ability to speak, too?  When the dam of your lower eyes met their limit, tears spilled over, streaking down your cheeks and dropping onto your hands and his neck. 

You squeezed hard once, watching the skin bunch beneath your fingers, then let go and softly caressed it; he reached up to lightly touch you, a callused thumb wiping away the wetness of your face, and guided you down to him as if you were made of glass.  You did not fight him, and lay on top of his chest, not minding the feel of the stiff leather or metal armour, listening to the booming echo of his heart.  To some, from a distance you might have almost looked like lovers. 

Maybe it was the oxygen deprivation, but to you, it sounded like Guts' voice. 

_I know.  I know.  I know._

You hoped he heard the same from you.

****

You had been watching Guts' sleeping form for some time, but it may as well have been only a few minutes.  He was resting while sitting, leaning his large body against an old log carpeted with green moss.  Holding your war scythe as easily as wives held brooms, you sat on the log beside him and kept vigil, thoughtful yet vacant. 

There was a change in the air, that only you and a handful of others could sense.  The sound of birds vanished, and the grass stopped swaying.  You got up and spun around to meet the Skull Knight. 

_"Still alive, I see, Strugglers,"_ his rich, deep voice unfurled like smoke. 

You kept silent at first, reluctant to tax your voice. 

_"Though perhaps not so well."_

Instinctively your hand went to your throat, ringed with wine-coloured bruises.  Giving Guts a quick glance, you walked closer to the Skull Knight so that you would not wake him with your voices.  Your scythe lowered, but did not leave your hand.

"Why are you here?" you asked, wincing at the aching of your vocal chords. 

_"Unearthly beings are gathering near,"_ the dark warrior stated, _"and so shall I.  And you two, as well.  Or do you already strive with a more intimate foe?"_

You stopped walking once you were within arm's reach of the great war horse, nearly double the size of an ordinary one.  "You say that like you already know the answer."

The Skull Knight lowered its chin a fraction, its lantern-yellow eyes settling on you.  _"You two have been witnesses to an ordeal very few could survive.  The darkness from the Eclipse has become a part of you, and as you wield your sword and scythe, it feeds the beasts within.  Borne of feeling, they are inhuman, and yet more human than anything else."_  

You almost wanted to laugh at that. 

_"The more you fight, the more you risk destroying each other before you reach the one you seek."_

Without thought, you raised your hand to just a few inches away from the muzzle of the Skull Knight's horse.  Even if it wasn't a mortal animal, you kept to the lessons you had learned long ago and made sure to not cup your palm to its mouth, and made no abrupt movements.  There was a faint metallic ringing as the horse tilted its head to you, its nostrils exhaling like a pair of bellows.  With maternal patience, you stayed still, until finally the horse gave a soft nicker and pressed its snout against you.  A tiny smile flitted across your face as you overturned your hand and petted the horse gently. 

"I know that I harbour every emotion there is for Guts," you said, "and that includes those of spite and sorrow.  It's the same with him.  We can never bring ourselves to say them, because they aren't true, nor are they entirely false, which is what makes them even more hurtful.  In our darkest hours, it becomes too easy to get absorbed in.  But..." 

You pivoted to look at Guts again.  He was still fast asleep.  You considered the possibility that maybe the Skull Knight was somehow keeping him that way so that you and he could speak, though you had no way of knowing that, and you did not feel like asking. 

"If he gets lost, I will draw him back.  If I get lost, he will draw me back."  Your teeth pinched a thin piece of the inside of your cheek and chewed.  "We can do so because we are monsters of the same ilk, after all." 

The Skull Knight considered your words.  Though you paled in physical strength when compared to Guts, he now perceived another power in you.  _"It is a sufficient answer,"_ he proclaimed at last.  _"It may be that you have survived for this long for a reason other than your desire to find the hawk."_  

He signaled wordlessly to his horse that it was time to leave.  With an uncharacteristic level of care, the steed pushed your hand back as it turned around.  _"Keep true to your word, then, Struggler, and quell his fire with yours."_   There was a beat, the only sound being the swish of the horse's tail.  _"Just remember that your suffering is what keeps you human.  When you no longer feel even that, then you will truly have lost all of yourselves."_  

An ethereal mist rose with the horse's stomping hooves, and the Skull Knight was gone.  Light prevailed through the fading mystic curtains, and you heard the little sounds of earthly life once more.

Your Moon Fang came to rest by your side as you sat down on the log again.  Placing a hand on Guts' shoulder, you exerted just enough strength to pull him towards you.  Through clothing and armour, thick muscles tightened as he resisted and awoke, blinking his eye at you. 

"It's okay," you whispered, "there's a little more time.  It's okay."  And with that said, you urged his head to rest on your lap.  He did so, and was asleep again in seconds. 

Small and sad and bittersweet as it was, you smiled--a wonder in and of itself.

**Author's Note:**

> The world of Berserk is a godawful one (worse than Game of Thrones, I'd say) with seemingly very little goodness and happiness in it; Guts' life is one of misery and suffering, and I guess I wanted to examine what it would be like if he had someone with him who went through the same things, and also fought with trying to control the darker parts of their traumatized personality.


End file.
